


Tumblr one-shots

by speakslow



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cute, Halloween prompt, Jealousy, M/M, Short One Shot, Sickfic, chapters are individually rated, idfk, if not mentioned assume it's rated t, some are from existing AUs i have written some are not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakslow/pseuds/speakslow
Summary: Just somewhere to put my prompts. Each chapter title is marked as part of a 'verse i wrote or stand-alone. Individual ratings, most are either T or mild M





	1. post bright as yellow: a sibling moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the summertime after Bright as yellow, R+E are graduated from high school – Sadie is going into tenth grade
> 
> based on the prompt:  
> Eddie witnesses Richie and Sadie being sibling-y without them knowing he's there

Eddie slipped into the front door of the Tozier home. In the summer they left it unlocked more often than not, _“one of the perks,”_   Maggie’d said, _“of small-town living.”_ He jogged his way up the stairs and went straight for Richie’s bedroom door. Late for their standing engagement to waste the afternoon reading comics—an activity which tended to conclude with a wrestling match that counted as foreplay—Eddie hoped he wouldn’t get teased for sleeping in. As he placed his hand over the doorknob, a pair of voices down the hall made him pause.

“That’s not how you do it at all! Actually _look_  at the paper before you waste my supplies, Richie.”

“Listen, pipe it the fuck down or you’re on your own.” Richie meant it, but he didn’t sound upset. At least not to Eddie “Why’dya even ask me for help?”

Without hesitation, Eddie crept towards Sadie’s room until he could see through her slightly cracked door. Richie and Sadie were hunched over her desk with their backs to him. Both of them still wore their pajamas. There was a huge mess of rainbow pipe-cleaners and post-it tabs covering the white table-top.

“I asked you because you got all the smart genes,” Sadie grumbled. She moved away from him to throw herself down onto the bed on her stomach. “I got the all the genes that make someone funny and popular, so I’m not really complaining, but still.”

Richie chuckled under his breath as he focused on twisting a pipe cleaner. “No wonder you failed Biology. That’s not how genetics work at all.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how your face works.”

“Good one,” he deadpanned, holding up a post it tab. “Which colors are you using for the different base pairs?”

“I don’t know. I barely know what the base pairs  _are_.”  Sadie shoved her face into her pillow and let out a muffled scream. She sat up and sighed, facing her brother. “What’s gonna happen if I fail  _summer-school_   Biology, too?”

 “They’ll probably ship you to the island where they send the rest of the life-rejects. Just like they do to the shitty toys in  _Rudolph_.”

“Richie, I’m serious.”

“I dunno, Sades; I’ve never failed a class before.”

“Rub it in.”

Richie exhaled a loud puff of air and put down the supplies in his hands. “I’m guessing that if you fail it in summer-school you’ll have to take it again in September.” He turned around and leaned his butt against the top of her desk.

“What if I fail it then, too?” Sadie sounded absolutely miserable, like her entire life depended on it.

“You’ll eventually learn to accept the fact that you’re not a science nerd and rejoice?”

“It’s literally useless talking to you. You don’t take anything seriously, and you can’t understand how much this sucks because you’re naturally good at everything.”

Eddie had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from giggling. From the tone of voice Sadie’d used while delivering that sweet praise of her brother, he’d have thought she was telling Richie that he was a chewed-up piece of gum on the bottom of a shoe.

“I love when you accidentally compliment me,” Richie marveled with a grin. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of her bed so his back was to Eddie. “I’m not  _naturally good at everything._  I just have a really good memory. When teachers say stuff, I remember it without having to write it down.”

“I don’t even try to pay attention in class,” she admitted, the cringe on her face shrinking her voice.

“Step one, genius.” Richie shoved her lightly on the shoulder. “Does this stupid DNA model  _have_   to be made out of pipe cleaners?”

“No. It was just one of the suggested methods.”

“Y’know,” he hummed, smugness dripping from his tone. “I once made one out of toothpicks, twizzlers, and gum drops. I got a prize for it.”

“You _did not_ ,” Sadie whispered, shaking her head. “Why don’t I remember that?”

Shrugging, Richie let his words out slowly. “Probably because you were nine and didn’t give a shit?”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You’re not gonna fail Bio in summer-school, Sades. I’ll help you with whatever you think is hard, okay?” Richie’s offer was so earnest that it made Eddie’s face crumble into soft frown.

Sadie sat up a little straighter. “Really?”

“What the fuck else am I doing?” Eddie watched back of his curly head bob. “I mean, it’s really going to cut into my lying around time, but it’s fine.”

“Thanks, Richie.”

“No problemo. I’m gonna go down and get something to eat.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “Whenever Eddie Spaghetti gets his cute little ass over here we can go to the store and get candy DNA supplies.”

“Okay.” Sadie reclined against her pillow, hugging a smaller one to her chest. “Thanks.”

Richie backed up and started walking towards the door, and the image of himself getting caught snooping set Eddie’s heart on a wild ride down into the pit of his stomach. He tiptoed quickly to the stairway, hopping down the first three steps like the carpet was made of lava. As casually as he could on an adrenaline spike, he walked back up the stairs, almost running into Richie when he hit the landing. “Oh! Hey.” He yammered it out unnaturally high. “Sorry I took so long.”

“Sleeping Beauty needs his rest,” Richie purred, oblivious, pulling Eddie into a hug. “Maybe weird question, but: do you like gumdrops, baby?”

“Sure.” Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s middle and squeezed, his long exhale evaporating the I’m-such-a-stalker tension that had built up in his body. “I like  _you_ better though”

“You’re so sappy already.” Richie tipped Eddie’s chin up with a finger to plant one kiss, rolling his lips. “I didn’t even have to give you the figure four to get us here.” 

Lowering his voice, Eddie grinned up at Richie, “If you think putting me in a leg lock is going to make me feel like messing around with you, you’re dreaming.”

Richie nudged his nose against Eddie’s cheek. “Headlock?”

“Never.”

“Full Nelson?” He breathed it against Eddie’s ear, giving him a full-body chill that made him wiggle his head around. “Cute.”

Sadie’s approaching voice scolded them. “Oh, come on. In the middle of the walkway? The room is right there. I don’t even have to tell you to _get a room_ ,  you have one.”

“We’re just saying hello, Sades.”

Eddie spun around to lean his back against Richie. Neither of them made any attempt to move out of the way. “How’s summer-school?”

“Stupid.” She turned sideways to pass them, bumping her back against the wall to get to the stairs. ”Richie, do you want a cold meatloaf sandwich, you fucking gross monster?”

“Yes, please.” He stuck each of his arms beneath Eddie’s and snaked them, weaving them up and around until his hands were behind Eddie’s neck.

“Hey, I know what you’re doing, just sto—”

“With mayo,” Richie added, pulling Eddie’s shoulders back. Full Nelson.

Eddie scrunched up his face and said, “Ew,” at the same time Sadie groaned, “Call the cops,” up the stairwell.

“Just _taste it_   before you act like I’m an asshole for liking it, Eds.”

“Hard pass.” Eddie sighed and tried feebly to wriggle his shoulders loose, but Richie had him completely locked up.

“You’re not threatening to burn the house to the ground to get out of this. You okay, Eds?”

Eddie felt fine. _More_  than fine. He’d just witnessed how good of a brother Richie could be, and it left him pliant and soft inside. The hold Richie kept around his shoulders was firm enough that he could’ve transferred all his weight to his upper body and hung from it, but it was gentle, too. Eddie could’ve fallen asleep with Richie holding him like that. “I’m fine, baby,” he murmured. “It’s summer vacation. We’re leaving this shit hole in two months. And I love you.”

Richie released his hands to let Eddie loose, and turned him around. “I love you, too.” He brought their mouths together again, slower, with parted lips. “Fuck, the age-old dilemma.” Richie held up his hands like he was balancing a scale. “Snuggle with Eddie Spaghetti.” He raised one hand and lowered the other. “Meatloaf sandwich.

Chuckling, Eddie grabbed one of his floating hands and led the way down the stairs. “Leftover meatloaf has an expiration date. I’ll be here all summer.”


	2. post wrapped in blue: An almost perfect Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Wrapped in blue. They’re newly back together and can’t keep their hands off each other. Richie is jealous of a first-year who keeps knocking on Eddie-the-RA’s door. Mildly NSFW; they are 20/21
> 
> based on the prompt:  
> Established, really into one another reddie, with a side of jealous!Richie

As far as Sundays went, Richie thought it was pretty much perfect. He’d woken up as a little spoon, with Eddie’s face pressed up against the back of his neck. Even though he had to piss like a racehorse, he managed to keep himself still for almost twenty minutes—a personal record—to let his boyfriend sleep and to savor the warmth curled behind him.

The two of them spent the entire day in bed, minus a quick trip to the showers. They ate nothing but poptarts, and Richie made Eddie come four times, in four unique ways. The last one was a crowning achievement for Richie: he accomplished it using only the pad of his long middle finger, and Eddie made a desperate noise like a dying goat when he busted. It was simultaneously the funniest and hottest thing that’d ever occurred on the whole planet and Richie would’ve been willing to take it into an alley with anyone who disagreed with that opinion.

Just a few weeks before, he figured they’d never, ever be so close to one another again. He appreciated every kiss, every nut-busting-noise, every word exchanged, every minute Eddie turned him into a little spoon. The thirty seconds Eddie used up to scribble a  _Do Not Disturb_   sign on his whiteboard was too much time apart. Richie felt like he’d come out of a coma. Like someone had revived him and honored him with a second chance at a life he thought he’d lost forever.

Sunday morning breezed by in a jumble of hands-and-mouths-and-dicks-and-fingers, and of  _“Oh **God** , Richie”_’s, with at least three cat-naps and a wrestling match tossed in for shits and giggles.

The afternoon went similarly down the drain, and the setting sun sent Eddie frantic. He needed to get his chapter reading done for class and made a big stink about it; threw out idle threats about titty-twisters, and he was all  _“I swear to God Richie, I’ll kick you out of my room if you can’t give me an hour to myself.”_ Richie agreed to back off, what else could he do? Sure thing boss; no problemo. But Eddie couldn’t force him to put on a shirt or pants. It was a  _live and die in boxers_   day, point blank.

They lounged on the bed head-to-toe and facing away from one another, each with their own textbook to study. No more than six minutes had passed when Richie broke. He stretched his arm behind himself and skated a warm finger slowly up the back of Eddie’s calf, slipping it under the hem of his cropped grey sweat pants.

Eddie shook his head hard enough to rock the mattress. “Richie, you promised to give me time for one chapter.”

“Guess I’m a big fat liar, then.” He flipped over onto his other side and laid his ear down on Eddie’s hip.

“You can last an hour.” Eddie wiggled his lower body to jostle Richie and knock him off, but Richie turned his head into dead weight. “Come on. Just keep your eyes on your own book and pretend I’m not here.”

“Oh right, yeah, no sweat,” Richie hummed, falsely bright. “Like it’s that easy when—”

“It’s working for  _me_ ,” he groused pointedly without turning around.

“Wait, you have to distract yourself to keep from touching me, Eds?” Richie sat up, and nudged Eddie in the back with both hands, super interested. “Is it total fucking  _torture_   for you, too?”

“It’s total fucking torture trying to absorb the words I’m reading when you won’t shut up.”

Richie grinned and peeled up the hem of Eddie’s loose white tank top, dancing his fingers over the valley of flesh between his hip and waist, watching goosebumps form.

 _“Richie_.Read your book.”

Planting his mouth just above the low-slung waist band of Eddie’s sweats, he sucked the skin in between his teeth, hard enough that he knew it’d sting a real good one.

“ _Fuck_ ,  Richie. Fine,” Eddie mumbled, shoving his book off the bed with a sharp jab of his elbow. He turned over onto his back, and Richie could tell by the little puckers at the tops of his cheeks that he’d already completely given up on reading. “Just don’t leave marks on my sides. If my shirt rides up in class people will think I have a disease or something.” He fiddled with the drawstring of his sweats, calling attention to the fact he was pitching a tent.

“You  _do_   have a disease. It’s called cutie-itis and there’s only one cure.” Richie shifted and walked on all fours until he was suspended just above Eddie. He bit down on a smile, squeezed his eyes shut and went for it. “Cure incoming,” he said quickly before letting his elbows cave in so he dropped chest first onto his boyfriend. Mini body slam.

Eddie let out an actual, real-life  _“Oof,”_ before growling “You fuckin’ dipshit.” But he smiled, and his eyes were shiny, and he wrapped his bare arms around Richie, smoothing them over his back.

Richie stretched himself out long on top of him, and Eddie responded with an upward tilt of his hips and a struggled exhale. Pressing his pelvis flush with Eddie’s hard on, he brought his mouth down to chew up a more hickey-approved area: Eddie’s neck.

A soft rapping on the door interrupted them, and Richie groaned, heaving himself off of Eddie and flopping onto his back in a smooth motion. He took off his glasses and rubbed a hand down over both eyes. “How did these little fuckers get into college when they can’t read?”

Eddie rolled onto his side. He combed his fingers through the front of Richie’s hair, the touch immediately soothing. “Richie, you know that I signed up for this.”

“Yeah, Eds, I get that, but some of these kids are grasping for reasons to see you. It’s bullshit.” 

“You really think people would make up excuses to talk to me?”  

“If you were  _my_ RA,  _I_   would.” Richie sighed, deep and long. He grabbed Eddie’s hand and kissed his palm. “Besides you, no one under fifty has  _ever_  needed a fucking Prilosec, baby.”

“That’s not true at all. You just have a lead stomach so you wouldn’t know what it’s like to get—”

The tapping resumed, a little louder and more insistent. Richie sucked a huge breath before screaming. “RELAX DUDE, GIVE PEOPLE A MINUTE TO—   _Owww,_  fuckin’ pinchy little shit-bag!” He rubbed his hand over his rib, where Eddie’d twisted his skin,  _hard_. “That’s gonna leave a bruise,” he whined, rolling on his side to face the wall.

Eddie got up and grabbed the throw blanket off the foot of the bed. He draped it over Richie’s nearly naked body, planting a fluttery kiss against his neck before walking away to answer the door.

Without looking, Richie knew which kid would be standing on the other side of the door when Eddie opened it. The same little blond asshole who blatantly ignored the polite  _Fuck Off_   written on Eddie’s door  _last weekend,_ too. The one who asked for a fucking Prilosec–like anyone was buying that shit. 

Richie knew he couldn’t be a dick to the kid, though. Eddie got a lot out of being an RA—discounted tuition, free single room, plus a stipend. Having an aggressive, jealous asshole of a boyfriend wouldn’t help Eddie keep the position. So, Richie kept his bare, blurry eyes fixed on the wall, the blanket pulled up to his neck, and he listened.

“Hi, Tyler. Sorry, I was studying.”

_Tyler, that’s his stupid name. Blue-eyed, blond-haired, perfect-teeth having scumbag._

“Yeah, no, don’t be sorry, I’m sorry for knocking, you have your sign up. It’s just super quick. Sara said you maybe had binder clips and—”

“Yep, I do. One second, okay?” The metallic squeaking sound of Eddie’s supply cabinet doors filled the room.

“Oh shit.” The nervousness in Tyler’s voice was audible. “I didn’t know you had someone over.” He’d noticed Richie on the bed.

 _Perfect_. _He’s begging for it._

“Pal, it’s fine.” Richie called out to him without turning around. “I know how desperate  _I_   get for binder clips. I’d probably call  _911_   over a binder clip emergency.”

The cabinet door slammed. “Here, is three enough?”

“Yeah, this is great. Thanks. Really, thanks a lot, Eddie. I–”

“We all get it,” Richie droned, unable to hide his irritation, “you owe him your life. What would you do witho—”

“You’re welcome, Tyler. See ya.” Eddie shut the door. “What’s with you?”

“What’s with  _me_?” Richie tossed the blanket off and slid his glasses back on. He rolled over onto his back, waving an arm towards the door. “That little asshole wants to blow you,  _so hard_.”

Eddie laughed from his belly as he crossed the room. He sat on the bed and draped his upper body across Richie’s chest, running tickly fingers through the hair there. “Are you being serious right now?” His big brown eyes flashed a dreamy twinkle when they traveled all around Richie’s face. “You’re jealous of a first-year?”

“I’m not jealous,” Richie grumbled, rolling his eyes at himself, because it was a total lie. He was  _extremely_   jealous. “I just don’t like the idea that he comes over here whenever he wants, and asks you for shit he doesn’t even need just to talk to you.” He reached a hand up and tugged the loose fabric on the front of Eddie’s tank. “And look at you: so fucking hot, answering the door with a semi-chub. That kid is gonna bop it in the shower tonight thinking about you, and I hate it.”

“You’re really fucking cute when you’re like this.” Eddie got up on his knees to straddle Richie and sat up tall, knuckling into the trail of hair on Richie’s lower belly. “You have nothing to worry about, okay?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathed, feeling silly. “I’m not worried about  _you_.  You know that.”

Eddie bent to kiss a meandering line from Richie’s sternum up to his throat.

“Look, if you still want to study, I’ll be good.” He said it, and meant it, but he really just wanted Eddie to forget about everything else and keep kissing him for the rest of their lives.

“Nah. It’s the second week, I’ll just do my standard ‘constant note-taking and lack of eye contact’ thing tomorrow.” He laid his head down on Richie’s chest, letting all his weight settle there. “Wanna go off campus and get some dinner?”

Richie stroked his hand over the soft hair by the nape of Eddie’s neck. “I promised myself that I wasn’t gonna put on clothes today, baby.”

“Sounds like you’re gonna freeze your ass off and get us kicked out of the pizza place.” Eddie sat up and slapped his palm lightly on Richie’s tummy. “Come on, I need to eat actual food.” He hopped up to slip on his sneakers.

“Fiiiine,” Richie sighed, sitting up. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” The honeymoon stage of their renewed relationship turned him into a puddle of goo. He would probably cave to  _any_   demand thrown at him, and he’d pretend like it was some grand imposition, but really, Richie would do anything to see Eddie Spaghetti happy, and he’d be dead in a ditch before he fucked it up again. 


	3. stand-alone halloween prompt: Asylum of Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Reddie Au were they go to this hospital themed haunted house and Eddie is nervous and doesn’t want to go but then they get there and Eddie is like having the time of his life joking with the actors and stuff and Richie is being a little baby and has to sleep on the floor of Eddie and mikes door for a week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m really sorry because this is such an old prompt but I’m feelin hollow-weenie and decided to give it a shot! this was written in a rush and not edited. warnings for fake gore and language. this prompt says that richie would sleep on eddie’s floor, so i took that to mean they are not dating/are besties and they probably like each other but i’m not focusing on it. it’s some kinda au I guess. they’re in college. roomates are eddie-mike, bill-richie, ben-stan, audra-bev

The line moved in slow-motion as groups of two entered the dark rubber flaps covering the doorway in timed intervals. One foot in front of the other, each step forward increasing his dread. He heard people screaming inside. Loud bangs. Cackles and shrieks.

_…six, seven, eight. Eight more people ahead of us. Four more groups. Three minutes apart. So that means we’ll have to go inside in twelve minutes. Twenty-one if Richie and I go last._

It was the type of night better spent indoors. The wind gusted in blasts that cut clean through the ear flaps on Eddie’s poofball cap. He clenched his teeth together to keep them from chattering and hopped from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact with his friends.

This was  _their_  stupid idea: a unanimous decision after they shot down Eddie’s suggestion to go see a spooky movie. Eager to get inside the building, they blabbered in split conversations around him until their voices blended together with the howling wind and the crowd.

Though Eddie would have loved to get inside and out of the cold, the sign hanging over the entrance was enough to send him screaming in the other direction.  _Asylum of Terror,_ written in red paint meant to look like dripping blood. Beside the text was the image of a sallow, grinning doctor in tattered scrubs. He held up a glowing green syringe the size of a novelty bat. It was just a stock picture from a costume catalog, one that someone on the staff had probably searched for online and blown up. But the possibility of running into an actual live human who looked like that sent a chill through Eddie’s whole body.

“You cold, Eds?” The honest question was funny coming out of Richie’s mouth. He wasn’t dressed for the weather at all, as per usual. Jeans and a hoodie, no coat. Pink ears and cheeks. Steam came out of his mouth as he leaned closer to Eddie’s ear. “Or are you about to shit a brick?”

“You wish,” Eddie grumbled. He licked his lips and tore his eyes away from the sign. Why did it have to be hospital themed? As if a haunted house weren’t scary enough, they had to go and bring reality into it?.

“It won’t be so bad,” Bev said from her spot curled against her boyfriend’s side.

“Yeah,” Ben agreed, hugging her closer. “It’s all fake anyway. Half the actors in there go to school with us.”

It was easy for them to say. They hadn’t been brought to hospitals as much as Eddie had. They hadn’t been poked and prodded and prescribed medicines they didn’t need. But Eddie didn’t want to be the big baby who made the whole thing about him. He kept quiet as the couples in their group did their coupley things, holding hands and teasing each other about their individual fears.

Stan loved birds, but Mike was deathly afraid of crows. Bill was always ready to rush head first into certain doom, but Audra giggled because she knew he would need to leave his laptop open that night, for the light. Ben talked a smooth game about how fake it all was, but Beverly pointed out that he was only cool calm and collected because he was certain that there wouldn’t be any mummies beyond the gates.

When their group got to the front of the line, Bill volunteered himself and Audra as the first victims. They walked forward and disappeared inside the entrance. It wasn’t but forty-five seconds before Eddie heard Audra squealing.

After three minutes, the man at the door ushered the next pair in.

“They don’t let birds in hospitals,” Mike said softly to himself as he Stan went in together, hands clasped.

“Wanna rock-paper-scissors it for who goes last?” Richie asked Bev and Ben.

Bev kept her eyes on Eddie. “Nah. We’ll go next.” She marched through without any further discussion, slightly ahead of Ben. He was the one who screamed, probably at the same thing that had gotten Audra, and Eddie heard the unmistakable sound of Beverly’s belly laugh.

Richie wrapped a warm arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Well, Eds. You and me.”

“Uh-huh.”  _Like always. For better or worse._

The man at the door muttered into his walkie talkie and beckoned them forward.

Richie rocked him side to side. “You ready?”

“No.”  _Not in the slightest._

“You wanna bail?”

“No.”

Richie cocked his head and grinned. “You wanna hold my hand?”

“Suck my dick, Tozier.” Eddie took a deep breath and shrugged Richie off, barreling forward into the entrance. The first room was a long narrow tunnel. Dark and empty, with glowing hand prints pressed into the curved walls.

“Was that an invitation for lewd activity? Because I’m game if—” Richie’s easy-going retort was halted by a high-pitched scream that ripped right out of his throat. In the center of the tunnel, just ahead of them, a girl materialized from nowhere. Misty and pale with bloody tears running down her face, she glowed and shimmered in a torn white gown.

Eddie swallowed hard and blinked. He tipped his head back and saw a small projector mounted on the ceiling. A hologram. It was a fucking hologram. He chuckled at Richie’s reaction. “She’s not even there,” he said, shaking his head. The girl flickered and faded away.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Richie’s whole body pressed up behind Eddie urgently. “That was completely cheap bullshit.”

“Come on, we have to keep walking.” Eddie inched away from Richie, towards the only exit. The next room was bathed in ambient blue light and in the center of it was a shining silver gurney with a body laid on it.

“Huh-uh,” Richie said. “I’m not going in there.”

Eddie turned back. Richie was totally serious. His entire lower lip was sucked up into his mouth. “Richie, we have to. They’re gonna let the next group in behind us.”

Richie hugged his arms around his middle defensively, planted in place. “They can pass us; I’ll give them the right of way.”

“You’re actually scared?”

“No. I just— I didn’t like that shit.”

Taking Richie’s hand, which managed to be both freezing and sweaty, Eddie scoffed. “You’re such a baby. All talk.” He pulled Richie along behind him.

As soon as they entered the second room, the body on the table stirred and sat up. He wore scrubs just like the man on the sign out front, only his were splattered with blood. There was a small hand ax buried deep in the crown of his head. He grinned at Eddie and bellowed: “I’ve got a splitting headache!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t even funny when I heard it on a rerun of  _Roseanne_  when I was six,” Eddie said smartly. It was all silly: paint and makeup and parlor tricks. He squeezed Richie’s slippery hand. “Rich, this is totally dumb, Ben was right.”

“Cool beans, Eds,” Richie whispered shakily. He took off his glasses and folded them, shoving them into the front pocket of his hoodie. “How ‘bout you be my eyes then, yeah?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m serious as a heart attack. This is fucked.”

And that was how it went. Eddie dragged Richie room to room. Richie sighed and whimpered at loud noises, plugging his ears and asking Eddie to describe what was going on, his voice high and thin. No chucks to be had.

“Who’s in here, Eds?”

“It’s that dude from Anthro 102 who skipped the last two weeks and showed up for the final. He’s wearing a straight-jacket.”

“Oh, I hate that dude.”

“I know. So did Professor Franklin.”

At least seven of the actors on staff were people Eddie recognized from school. He and Richie slipped through a wide corridor full of shambling, moaning zombies, and Richie practically climbed onto Eddie’s back when one of their arms brushed against his neck. The following room had a bubbling cauldron with a trio of witches surrounding it. “Witches don’t work in hospitals, last time I checked,” Eddie told one of them. She stuck her tongue out at him as he and Richie exited.

“Stop hassling the cretons, Eds.”

“Shhh wait, Rich, I think this is the last room.” There was a door with EXIT messily sloshed across the center in the same blood-paint from the entrance sign.

“Thank fuck. How can you tell?”

Eddie smiled up at Richie’s squinting, terrified face. “Because there’s a guy with a chainsaw in the corner.” Right after the words left Eddie’s lips, the chainsaw revved.

“Oh, no no no!” Richie clung to Eddie, screaming: “Where’s the goddamned door?!” as several bright flashes lit up the whole room.

The man with the chainsaw lurched towards them. Eddie yanked Richie hard by his shoulder and gripped onto the knob to free them. Two steps and one slam and they were outside, safe, standing in the patchy grass behind the building. A few feet beyond stood a series of tents, the next obvious destination. Eddie heard indistinguishable voices, laughter and groans filtering out into the night.

Richie panted and cursed to himself, doubled over. He pulled his glasses out from their hiding place with trembling hands.

“Anyway,  _who_   was about to shit a brick?” Eddie asked with an uncontrollable  grin. He had never seen Richie so shaken, not even that time that they went to the carnival and the attendant hadn’t buckled his seat properly on the tilt-o-whirl.

Richie was pale as a piece of swiss cheese, his hair sweaty like he had a fever. “Eds gets off a good one,” he mumbled, defeated and sheepish. “Betcha can’t wait to tell everyone that old Richie’s a stupid diaper baby.”

It was enticing, the prospect of having fodder to roast Richie until the end of time, but Eddie let it go. “I’ll save it for when you really deserve it,” he said. “C’mon, let’s go see what the tents are about.” He figured it was a cheap merchandising stunt. Shirts and hot cider for sale, or a horror memorabilia auction or something like that. But he heard both Beverly and Stan laughing hysterically as the approached the flaps.

Inside, there was a table with an old television on it. All their friends were crowded around it, their faces red from laughing. On the screen was a still shot of Eddie and Richie. Eddie was standing squarely in the center of the screen, looking solid and held together with a half-smile on his face. Richie was mid scream, his bare eyes bugged out and his eyebrows crumpled, almost pained, long fingers clawing helplessly over Eddie’s shoulders.

“Mother _fuck,”_  Richie hissed. “Fucking cameras?! Fucking flash photography?!”

“Damn, I look good,” Eddie said. He did. He looked strong and calm and ready to fight, even in his pom-pom hat and too-puffy down coat.

Stanley was giggling like a maniac and wiping tears that kept coming. He stepped forward and pulled Richie into a sincere hug. “Thank you for blessing me. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Richie shoved him off half-heartedly. “Shut up, Stanley.”

“We’re ordering twenty-four wallet sized prints,” Bev said brightly. “And one portrait-size for Stan’s wall.”

* 

After midnight, Eddie was just about to turn in for the night when he heard a soft rapping on the door to his room. He glanced at Mike and Stan, both soundly asleep, curled into one another in Mike’s bed. With a sigh, he heaved himself off his own bed and opened the door.

Richie stood there in the hallway wearing his pajamas and unlaced chucks. His lower lip was chapped maroon, like he’d been chewing on it for a week. He fiddled with his glasses. “Hey, Spaghetti Man. What’s the good word, old chap?”

Eddie slipped into the hall and closed the door over. “What do you want, Richie?”

He shrugged. “To hang? Eat ramen? Play smash brothers?”

“It’s almost one in the morning. Stan and Mike are asleep.”

“Yeah, well, I drank too many redbulls today. Can’t sleep.”

“Count sheep, then,” Eddie said. He reached for the door handle, but Richie’s hand covered his.

“Eds. Bill is sleeping over at Audra’s. And I don’t wanna— I can’t just—” He was pleading without asking. The rest of the story was in his eyes and in every bob of his adam’s apple and on his lips, but the words weren’t coming out.

_Just say it._

“You’re scared?”

“No.” Richie shook his head quickly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m  _lonely.”_

Eddie held back the grin threatening to take over his whole face. “Tell me the truth and you can stay.”

Richie sighed, deep and long. He dropped his arms and the act. “Every time I close my eyes I see that girl in the white dress.”

“The fucking hologram? She wasn’t even real.”

“Your mom is a hologram,” Richie shot back, wincing right after he said it.

“And your room is two floors down. See ya.”

“Fine, fuck. Sorry.” Richie clenched his hands and his face at the same time. “I’m scared to sleep alone, alright? You win.” 

Nodding, Eddie relented. “Okay. You can sleep on the floor.”

“But, Eds,” Richie whined, “it’s all cold and hard.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“They can when the person they’re begging is their bestest best friend.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m only your bestest best friend when you need something from me.”

Richie jerked back a bit, like he’d been slapped by an invisible force. “You really think that?”

_No, I don’t really think that. Except for when I do._

“Sometimes.”

“Eds, I wouldn’t have wanted to go into that haunted house with anyone but you. Even if we were both pissing our pants and rolled into the fetal position the whole way.” Richie was being honest, the most sincere Eddie’d ever seen him. It wasn’t a ploy to gain access to Eddie’s room or his bed. They traded jabs back and forth since they were kids, but underneath it was all love.

“Yeah, me too.”

Richie smiled genuinely. “Then lemme share your blankie.”

“Fine.” Eddie opened the door, whispering: “You can sleep by the wall.”

“Cool, perfect,” Richie whispered back. He kicked off his chucks and dove headfirst onto the bed, burrowing under Eddie’s blanket. “That way, when the scary white dress ghost lady comes to kill us in the middle of the night, she’ll get you first.”

Eddie climbed in beside him. “Beep-beep, shithead.”


	4. stand alone winter prompt: i'b dot sigk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eddie is not getting sick. he has a date with richie later tonight, okay? and it's just the change in weather making his nose run, anyway. get off his back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the catching a cold/getting sick prompt for day seven of the itfandomprompts 25 days of christmas event. 
> 
> AU, established fledgling relationship (shares hc with another au of mine but is not part of that story). rated mildly M? idk it's tame and not nsfw but there is mention of sex and innuendo

_Why does it have to be so goddamned hot in every room on campus?_

After a string of days where the temperature hovered just above freezing, mother nature was kind enough to offer up a last taste of autumn. A blessing in theory, but it meant that thermostats everywhere were working overtime. Heat pumped away like it was still frigid outside. Every indoor nook and cranny sweltered.

Eddie’s classroom was not immune to this phenomenon. It was filled with the same sort of oppressive warmth found in shopping malls during the Christmas season. He erased his scribbles from the dry erase board, pondering the ridiculousness of it: the fact that he was sweating more than he did in summertime during the first week of December. Sweating like a pig, yet sniffling all the while.

Sharp temperature changes always played hell with Eddie’s sinuses. He had been sniffling off and on since the moment he stepped into the unseasonably warm air that morning. A minor annoyance. Just a change-of-weather thing. He sniffled his way through his morning commute, a staff meeting, a three-hour lecture, and the non-mandatory final review session he offered to any of his students who were struggling--his last professional obligation of the day.

The few students who bothered showing up were filtering out of the room to start their weekends. Right as he finished clearing the board, he heard a soft, “Feel better, Professor K,” come from behind him.

Eddie turned around just in time to see her long brown hair tossing side to side as she walked away. His eyes landed on the brand-new travel pack of tissues she had placed on his desk. “Thank you, Laura,” he called after her retreating form, “but I’m not sick!” And though he really believed it, his voice sounded a little husky in his head.

He wasn’t sick. He couldn’t be. His throat felt fine. There was no pressure in his face or ache in his head or itch in his ears. It was just a case of the sniffles, simple as that

His down-facing phone buzzed a hollow rumble against the top of his desk, reminding him that getting sick wasn’t an option, anyway. He had plans later. Important plans.

 

_

**Dickless Richard: cute boot !! hows it going today?**

**Eds Spageds: Going ok, pook. How bout you?**

**Dickless Richard: :hearteyes: better now**

**Eds Spageds: What time do I need to be there tonight?**

**Dickless Richard: 630. youll be done by then right?**

**Eds Spageds: Yeah way before. I’m almost out of here rn**

**Dickless Richard: kk cool. not like I should be giving anyone fashion advice but remember that this place is kinda upscale. wear something that would look good on my floor**

**Eds Spageds: (: point taken. I’m about to go home and change. Can’t wait to see you :heart:**

**Dickless Richard: you went and stole my line. me too x 19283**

**_**

 

 

They had been out of sync all week.  A lot of missed calls and texts that went unanswered for hours. It wasn’t on purpose or for a lack of trying. Pre-finals week was always a busy week for Eddie. The last time he saw his boyfriend was early on Monday morning. Richie was sprawled out on his stomach, fast asleep and snoring softly. He hadn’t stirred at all when Eddie ninja-silenced the blaring alarm, or when Eddie kissed him on the back of his neck, quickly dressed and slipped out of his apartment.

All the plans for the night to come were made by Richie, and though interpreting the exact tone of text on a screen was near impossible, Eddie could tell he was proud of his idea. Dinner locally at a fancy Italian restaurant. Afterwards they would hop the train and cap off the evening by walking through the Bronx Zoo’s holiday light festival. Hot cider. Selfies with illuminated pandas and giraffes and tree frogs as a backdrop.

Kissing and hand-holding. Cold noses bumping. Warm hearts humming. Making out on the train home, frantically undressing one another the second they got back to Richie’s apartment. Eddie couldn’t wait. He sniffled again and stuffed the pack of tissues into his briefcase. The list of occurrences that might have kept him from spending time with Richie were short: a tsunami, a tornado, a major surgery, maybe the zombie apocalypse. The sniffles didn’t even rate.

****

 

A series of bangs startled Eddie awake, the noise ripping him away from a lucid dream wherein he was scuba diving in a tropical location. He sat up so quickly that he gave himself a head rush. It was dark. The air around his face felt too thick. There was a horrible taste in his mouth. Was he still underwater? Smacking his lips, he glanced groggily at the darkness surrounding him and tried to remember where and when he actually was.

_Home. Living room. Friday. I left work and got into my car and…_

A dull pressure had settled into the base of his skull during the drive home. Rush-hour traffic at the end of a hectic work week inevitably led to a stress-headache. Eddie’s intentions were to take a quick nap to sleep it off before getting ready to go out. He had kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks, set his phone alarm, and fallen onto the couch. The sun still hung low in the sky when he drifted off to sleep. And now it was dark. Very dark.

The thumping sound resumed, more insistent this time. Three sharp pounds on his apartment door. Eddie threw a hand out, hunting on the coffee table. His fingers slapped a pillow of air. It crinkled. The unopened tissues his student had given him. He groped beside it until he landed on something hard. His phone. He lifted it and squinted at the screen.  

**_7:14 PM. 3 missed calls. 8 new messages._ **

_Fuck. Richie._

Dragging himself to his feet, Eddie stumbled over the area rug. His legs were heavier somehow, bogged down by the lengthy nap. He made it to his apartment door and leaned his cheek on it. The coolness of the wood against his skin surprised him more than what he saw through the peep hole.

Richie stood there in the hallway. Like an image out of a fun house mirror, he appeared extra tall and distorted through the fish-eye lens, but he was dressed impeccably: a fitted suit jacket and button down with slacks in colors that didn’t clash for once. His contacts were in, and it looked like he had even gotten a haircut recently. The curly tendrils that framed his face were smooth and glossy. But his jaw was clenched. He had just been stood up and obviously came in search of answers.

“Eddie, I know you’re there. I can see your eye.” Richie leaned forward on his palms, his bare eyes squinting into the hole. “Look, I’m not mad, okay? I just wanna know what the fuck is going on.”

_How could you not be mad? I’d be fucking pissed if we had plans and you didn’t show up._

Eddie felt so guilty that he didn’t want to let Richie look at his face. Why hadn’t he just taken an Advil and hopped in the shower as soon as he got home? His regret pounded along with the pulse in his temple. The nap did nothing to erase the low-grade headache. If anything, it felt worse. He swallowed thickly and shut his eyes, bracing himself to get an earful as he pulled open the door.

“You better have a good—” The discontented lines on Richie’s cheeks and forehead smoothed when saw Eddie’s face. His eyes flicked behind Eddie, into the darkened apartment and then down, to Eddie’s rumpled work clothes.  “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, I’b so sorry." Eddie cringed at his own raspy and congested voice, stopping to clear his throat and sniffle, but it didn't help matters. “I told byself I odly could lay down for a half-hour and I duddo what habbend.”

Richie's shoulders dropped. “ _Baby_ ,”  he drawled sweetly. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick?" The barely contained anger and frustration he brought with him had evaporated in an instant. "We didn’t have to go anywhere tonight. We coulda just snuggled on the couch and ordered in.”

“Because I’b dot sigk,” Eddie insisted. He knew how silly the declaration sounded through his stuffed-up nose, but he had sunk an entire day into the charade and was too stubborn to back out of it that easily. “It’s 'cause of the chayge in weather.”

“Sure.” Richie chuckled and laid the back of two fingers against Eddie’s forehead. They felt blissfully cool, like he’d been storing them in a chest of ice. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I could fry an egg on you; are you kidding me?”

Eddie wanted to argue with that exaggeration. It wasn't that his head was hot. Richie’s hands were just cold. A sudden tickle in his nose took away his ability to answer. Shaking his head, he stepped backwards and buried his face into his elbow to release two shivery sneezes. A couple minor explosions that seemed to open the floodgates.

“Gesundheit.” Richie came into the apartment and shut the door behind himself. “You’re not sick at all, nope.” He flicked the switch on the wall, illuminating the small space. “Perfectly healthy.”

“Fuck, I deed a tissue.” Eddie hurried back to the couch and plopped down hard, hands clumsily seeking out that pack of tissues and tearing into it. He pulled out a handful and blew his nose gingerly. It made a thick, gurgling noise. Absolutely disgusting. Embarrassing. The least attractive person ever in existence. _"Ugh, God,”_  he moaned, sniffling, “I’b totally gross.” Gross, and sick. Most definitely sick.

“No, baby, you’re not  _totally gross,”_   Richie said reassuringly. He sat down beside his boyfriend.  “You’re only a little bit gross.”

Eddie laughed too hard at that bait and switch. His laughs turned into barking coughs, doubling him over.

Richie’s big hand reached out and rubbed circles on his back through the fit. He waited for Eddie to catch his breath before speaking again. “So did you plan to come waltzing into the restaurant like this, wheezy?”

“Dod’t call be—”

“And then you were gonna go walking around outside all night, to boot? I dunno if I should be flattered or worried.”

Eddie sighed and balled up the sodden paper, wishing he had somewhere convenient to toss it. He gestured to his face with his free hand. “I wasd’t like this before I fell asleeb, okay? I just had a little headache, so I thought if I—” He sneezed without warning, and his face miraculously snapped down into the wadded tissue, sparing Richie a shower. He wiped hurriedly under his nose, mumbling: “Fuck. Sorry.”

“New rule: you only have to be sorry for things that are actually your fault.” Richie hopped up off the couch. Two strides with his long legs was all it took for him to reach the bathroom. He came back with the waste can and set it down on the floor in front of Eddie without comment.

Eddie tossed the used tissues into it. “Thags.”

“No prob.” Richie leaned his butt against the arm of the couch, so he was hovering over where Eddie sat. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you have cold medicine somewhere in this joint?”

“In the bathroob, but it’s for dight-tibe.” Eddie didn't bother to deny it anymore. He curled his legs up under himself and sniffled. “If I take it I’ll dock out.”

“You can knock out right here.” Richie rapidly patted the tops of his thighs with both hands like his legs were a pair of bongos. He stopped short and let his hands rest there, his voice going casual. “Unless you’re one of those people who likes to be left alone when they’re sick. If you are, I’ll hit the road.”

"I ab ode of those people,” Eddie said quietly.   _Well, I’m one of those people, now_ , he thought.

When Eddie was young, the choice was always made for him. Anytime he fell ill, he’d promptly gotten smothered; dragged to this doctor or that walk-in clinic. In the freedom of adulthood, he preferred dealing with illness like an old dog would: by retreating to a dim, quiet place and hunkering down by his lonesome until it passed.

But nothing about Richie was adamant or rough. He seemed casually concerned. Ready to help if needed. Prepared to leave if asked. During their short relationship, neither of them had seen the other sick-sick, though Eddie had been the one eager to dole out comfort and relief when Richie got an infrequent migraine.

“You want me to leave, then?” Richie asked. The question hung in the air between them.

Eddie didn’t want him to leave. The offer of snuggling on the couch was mighty enticing, and he craved Richie’s cool hands combing through his hair. That was what he really wanted: to swallow some medicine that would unstuff his head and curl up in his boyfriend’s lap for the rest of the night. He wasn’t keen on vocalizing such a needy request. “You cad stay if you wadt to,” he said with a half-shrug, “probably be boring for you, though.”

“Eds, I’ve been dying to see you all week.” Richie took off his jacket and laid it behind himself over the arm of the couch. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a completely different idea about how this night was gonna go, but—” He smiled a lascivious smile, one that made Eddie wish he had the ability to travel back in time, so he could load up on echinacea and cut the cold off at the pass, but then Richie’s eyes settled onto Eddie’s hair, and that smile softened. He pushed up off the arm of the couch and started inching towards the bathroom. “Go put on something comfy. Be right back.”

“ ‘Kay.”

Eddie retreated to his bedroom and closed the door over. Taking his time, he blew his nose until his ears popped, more ferociously without an audience. He stripped off his constrictive work clothes, changing into loose sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt that Richie had left behind the last time he slept over. After collecting his pillow and the tissue box from his bedside table, he started to leave the room. His reflection in the mirror made him take pause. Pink nose, ruddy cheeks, glassy eyes, disaster-hair, sallow complexion.

“Dot sigk,” he scoffed to himself. “What a dubbass.” Denial was a hell of a drug, and he had been running on its fumes all day long.

The lights in the living room were lowered. Richie had been busy in Eddie’s absence. A steaming mug of tea sat on the table beside a hodge-podge of options from the stock-pile of meds in the bathroom cabinet, more stuff than Eddie needed: cough drops, liquid Nyquil, a squeeze-bottle each of throat and nose spray.

Sleeves rolled up and shoes off, Richie lounged right in the middle of the couch with his stocking feet up on the edge of the coffee table. His brows were knit thoughtfully while he scrolled through Eddie’s  _recently watched_   Netflix titles.

“I did’t hear the keddle whistle.” Eddie let the tissue box thunk onto the table. He held back a sigh as he sunk into the corner of the couch with his pillow  tucked up under his arm.

Richie shrugged without looking away from the TV. “That’s ‘cause I made it in the microwave.” When Eddie snickered at that, he rolled his eyes and set the remote down. “Hey, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Heat is heat.” He lithely moved his feet to the floor and turned to face Eddie, bringing one bent knee up onto couch. “So really, how do you feel? And don’t sing me the second verse of _I’m not sick._ It’s never going top ten.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Tired. Head hurts,” he said, rattling the symptoms off, answering honestly, “my throat is startig to—” He sniffled sharply and struggled to reach for the tissues, grumbling: “And I hate beig stuffed ub,” before blowing his nose again, less self-consciously than the first time.

Leaning forward, Richie nodded as he grabbed the bottle of radioactive-blue liquid and cracked it open. “Your medicine cabinet is a trip,” he said, pouring out a dose into the measuring cup, “fuckin’ stocked. Mine has a bottle of aspirin, an old razor and a sample pack of Viagra that I bought in Mexico as a joke.”

Smirking at the Viagra comment, Eddie shot his soiled tissues into the waste basket and then lobbed a comeback to score twice: “You bought it as a joke or as ad insuradce policy?”

“He’s a comedian,” Richie said, grinning and holding out the medicine. “Bottoms up Carlin.”

Eddie took the offered cup and drank it down, grimacing only slightly at the taste. He placed it back on the table.

“Takin’ it like a champ.” Richie fluttered his fingers and made like he was going to take Eddie’s pillow, but hesitated. “You gonna just sit in the corner and hug that all night or you wanna put it to use?”

Their eyes connected. The soft-edged look Richie gave him wasn’t filled with pity or lust. It was questioning. Inviting.  _Wanna come lay on me and stay awhile?_   Eddie had looked so forward to dinner out, a wintery date, joking on the train, ending it all with sex. Their sex; the kind of sex that somehow always managed to be both satisfying and silly, where they were just as likely to scream each other’s name as they were to giggle uncontrollably. But sometimes, all Eddie wanted was to be close to Richie, and to see his eyes when they held that exact gaze. Being struck down with a cold wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Smiling, Eddie silently passed the pillow over.

Richie readjusted himself until he sat facing forward. He propped the pillow against the outside of his thigh and patted it twice, beckoning Eddie to lie down. “What’s your go-to comfort show?” he asked, reclaiming the remote.

“Uh, Parks and Rec. Season four.” In one smooth motion, Eddie slunk down and slid forward, settling comfortably with his head on the pillow and pulling the blanket that lived on the back of the couch over himself. A contented sigh left his lips. “What’s yours?”

“I dunno.” Richie put on an episode from the Parks era Eddie specified as he spoke. “I usually watch cooking competition shows when I’m feeling crummy. Sometimes Disney movies.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. Aladdin.” His arm came down and rested over Eddie, warm and solid, his fingers drumming an absent rhythm on Eddie’s elbow through the blanket.

They were barely ten minutes into the show when the strong decongestant kicked in. The ache in Eddie’s head subsided along with the stuffiness. His body felt looser; his mind sleepy and slow. He was too hot again, just like he had been in the classroom, and he shucked the blanket half-way off himself, jostling Richie’s arm.

“You okay, Eds?” Richie’s palm met his forehead. “Oh, you’re a clam, now,” he said, the pad of his thumb dabbing around Eddie’s temple.

Eddie chuckled, rolling onto his back so he could see Richie’s face better. “A clam?”

“Clammy.” Richie rested his other hand on Eddie’s stomach. “Means your fever is going down.”

“I barely had one at all to begin with,” Eddie protested lightly, though he had no idea if that was true or not. “Your hands were cold from outside when you first—” He pushed Richie’s hand away and pulled the blanket up over his face just in time to cover an insistent cough. When he recovered, he came up for air, shaking his head and feeling guilty. He wanted Richie close to him, but there were consequences. “I’m gonna get you sick.”

“Yup." Richie pouted his lower lip, bobbing his head side to side. "Probably.”

“You’re not worried?”

“About a cold?” His hand came back and found Eddie’s hair, petting him. “No way, Eds. N-B-D.”

“It would be a big deal to me.” Eddie closed his eyes. He didn't know if it was Richie's touch or the medicine that left him floaty in the middle. The drowsier he got, the more his honesty bubbled up to the surface. “If we were in the opposite position, I’d come by your place to check up on you, but I’d be super worried about ending up sick, too.”

“My baby is a brave little toaster.” Richie kept raking through Eddie’s hair.

“Not brave,” Eddie countered quickly, “your baby is in love,” his loose lips moving faster than his brain could process.

Richie’s fingers stopped moving. “He’s what now?”

An icy hand took hold of Eddie’s heart and squeezed for a second.  _Too soon, idiot_.  “Uh.” His eyes popped open wide. “I’m— I said, uh, I said—”

“Ah say, ah say,  _boy.”_ Richie put on a cartoon voice, making a joke out of Eddie’s stammering attempt to explain himself, but there was no gusto behind it. It was gentle. He let a few seconds slip by before adding: “Eds. I’m in love, too.”

Eddie’s heart took another leap and tumble. He licked his lips. “You are?”

“Yeah, but it’s long distance.” Richie’s mouth wasn’t smiling, but his voice and eyes were. “Never even met her, in fact.”

_A joke. A fucking joke about my mother._

“Okay, stop. Don’t say anything else. I know what you’re about to—” Eddie yanked the blanket up over his head and groaned. “Are you fucking kidding me, Richie?” Sure, Eddie had fucked up. He said entirely too much under the influence of a poorly timed sleep aid, but Richie capitalizing on it and using it for a big fat punchline hurt worse than his throat did.

Richie laughed, his lips vibrating a sloppy sounding raspberry. “Kid, I’m sorry, that was a priceless set-up. I had to.”

“Dick,” Eddie said, meek and muffled, head still covered, hiding his embarrassed blush and crumpled brows.

“That _is_  a variation of my name,” Richie said, grinning audibly. He rubbed his hand over Eddie’s chest through the blanket.

Eddie pulled the blanket down to his chin. He couldn't look at Richie. He didn’t want to. Leslie Knope and company were on the TV, the gang of them trying to walk on an ice rink in street shoes, slipping and sliding all over the place. One of the funniest moments in the show’s entire history. Neither of them laughed.

“Eddie, I love you.”

That statement hit him like a crushing hug squeezing his core. Blinking, Eddie turned his head slowly. Richie was staring down at him with that same questioning look in his eyes. Inviting. Soft, and more vulnerable than it looked at first glance. Naked. He meant it. Both of them meant it, and it only took a cold, a broken date, and the slip-up of a medicinally loosened tongue to get them to admit it.

“I wish I could kiss you,” Eddie blurted, a tad too desperately. It wasn’t the perfect right answer to  _I love you,_   but what did perfect matter? The words were enough. They made Richie’s eyes crinkle, his lips curve.

“You can. We can do more than that, if you feel up to it.” Richie cupped the side of Eddie’s face. “I’m not scared of germs, Eds. Kiss me.”


End file.
